Elton went on to describe something of the success that had attended Lady Meyfield's hostels, as she called them. They were famous throughout the Service. When war broke out someone had suggested that she should use her tact and knowledge of human nature in treating cases that defied the army M.O.'s. "A tyrant is the first victim of tact," Godfrey Elton had said of Lord Meyfield, and in his ready acquiescence in his lady's plans Lord Meyfield had tacitly concurred. Lady Meyfield had conferred with her lord in respect to all her plans and arrangements, until he had come to regard the hostels as the children of his own brain, admirably controlled and conducted by his wife. He seldom appeared, keeping to the one place free from the flood of red, white, and blue--his library. Here with his books and terra-cottas he "grew old with a grace worthy of his rank," as Elton phrased it. Lady Meyfield's "cases" were mostly those of shell-shock, or nervous troubles. She studied each patient's needs, and decided whether he required diversion or quiet: if diversion, he was sent to her town house; if quiet, he went to one of her country houses. At first it had been thought that a woman could not discipline a number of men; but Lady Meyfield had settled this by allowing them to discipline themselves. All misdemeanours were reported to and judged by a committee of five elected by ballot from among the patients. Their decisions were referred to Lady Meyfield for ratification. The result was that in no military hospital, or convalescent home, in the country was the discipline so good. Miss Brent listened perfunctorily to Elton's description of Lady Meyfield's success. She had not come to Grosvenor Square to hear about hostels, or the curing of shell-shocked soldiers, and her eyes roved restlessly about the room. "You know Lord Peter?" she enquired at length. "Intimately," Elton replied as he took her cup from her. "Do you like him?" Miss Brent was always direct. "Unquestionably." Elton's tone was that of a man who found nothing unusual either in the matter or method of interrogation. "Is he steady?" was the next question. "As a rock," responded Elton, beginning to enjoy a novel experience. "Why doesn't he live here?" demanded Miss Brent. "Who, Peter?" Miss Brent nodded. "No room. The soldiers, you know," he added. "No room for her own son?" Miss Brent's tone was in itself an accusation against Lady Meyfield of unnaturalness. "Oh! Peter understands," was Elton's explanation. "Oh!" Miss Brent looked sharply at him. For a minute there was silence. "You have been wounded?" Miss Brent indicated the blue band upon his arm. Her question arose, not from any interest she felt; but she required time in which to reorganise her attack. "I am only waiting for my final medical board, as I hope," Elton replied. "You know Lady Tanagra?" Miss Brent was feeling some annoyance with this extremely self-possessed young man.